


Healer of Dawn

by SparkleMoose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crucifixion, I am appalled at the lack of ardyn/omc fics, M/M, Magical Realism, Violence, so here i am, this fic is brought to you by my need for two assholes snarking at each other and falling in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 07:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15881571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleMoose/pseuds/SparkleMoose
Summary: When Nike died, he thought that dead meant dead.He didn't expect a god to give him another chance at life.He definitely didn't expect to fall in love with Ardyn -fucking- Izunia of all people.





	Healer of Dawn

**_You are someone in love with the impossible_ **   
_Anne Carson, Antigone._

There is a healer; or rather, there are whispers of one. Whispers of a man with moonstone braided into his hair that heals those with the Scourge; there are whispers of a healer who does not work for money or loyalty but because he cannot bear to see suffering.

There are whispers of a healer that is not named Oracle or Lucis Caelum and Ardyn-

Ardyn is intrigued.

(It is a very dangerous thing to have a monsters attention.)

* * *

Nike cups a man’s face that is blackened by the Scourge and suffering with his hands and watches as gentle sparks race across the man's body and as the Scourge slides off him like water down a stream. He ignores the mutters from the crowd around him as he steps back, no longer touching the man who’s looking at him as though Nike is something immortal and holy and not bone and flesh.

Nike turns to leave, he had done what he had came for after all, when a hand grabs his wrist. He stops and turns his head to see the man he had just healed grabbing his wrist and staring at him with stars in his eyes.

“How?” he asks.

Nike pulls his wrist out of the man’s hand.

He doesn’t have an answer for him.

He leaves, and crowd parts around him like the sea.

* * *

 

The thing is that Nike never wanted to be a healer. He hadn’t wanted to serve again; hadn’t wanted to watch as the masses demanded more and more of him until he had nothing left to give.

He hadn’t wanted to be a healer, but at night he dreams of gunshots and fire and desperately pressing his hands to his sister's chest in a vain attempt to bring her back. To heal what had been done to her. He had the gift didn’t he? He could bring her back, he had too.

His magic had sparked uselessly over her body.

You couldn’t heal those already dead.

* * *

Ardyn watches. He watches the healer wander from settlement to settlement, watches the healer heal those with the Scourge and those with almost fatal wounds and those lying on their sick beds because of something as trivial as a stab wound and he wonders. He wonders how this man came across his power, he wonders if the healer has a part to play in the grand scheme of things or if he is merely there to provide a false hope.

Ardyn watches white sparks fly from the healers' fingertips and close wounds and ward off the Scourge and he wonders.

He almost steps out of the shadows before he means to. Almost reaches out to grasp the healer by the elbow and to ask ‘why?’ when he already knows the answer.

In the end, he doesn’t have to.

* * *

Nike knows there is something following him. A shadow, perhaps, a demon of his old world maybe. Whatever it is, it draws closer to him as he heals, as though it’s fascinated by the way sparks fly from his hands and mend wounds.

Nike doesn’t talk to it in hopes it goes away.

It never does.

He finally has enough when they’re in a barn, when the crowd that comes to watch him heal departs and the owner of the barn, the wife of the woman Nike had finished healing, says that he can stay the night if he wants.

When Nike is sure they’re alone, that no one will circle back to ask questions, his arm strikes out like a hunting snake and grabs the shadow that’s been watching him. His hands grasp something that feels like silk and Nike drags the shadow into the light.

The shadow turns out to be a man with gold eyes and hair the color of wine. The shadow turns out to be a man with the Scourge flowing under his skin like water and Nike can almost feel it. It makes something in him want to help, want to purge the sickness from the man in front of him but this time there is something different about the Scourge, something about it that seems ancient and unforgiving and Nike doesn’t know what made it that way but it makes him hesitate.

“Why were you following me?” Nike asks when he finds his voice. The man in front of him had been quiet the entire time Nike had been lost in thought, observing Nike as though he’s a mystery the man can’t wait to unravel.

“Can’t a man be curious?” The man asks, his voice low and silky, it’s an attractive voice, Nike will admit and then he wonders how many people have fallen for that voice and whatever lies it has told.

“A man can be curious and not stalk someone for miles on end,” Nike says, thoroughly unimpressed by the man in front of him.

The man chuckles, as though he finds Nike amusing and before Nike can act on the impulse to punch him the man speaks.

“But who wouldn’t follow one such as you?” the man challenges, “You claim to belong to neither the line of Lucis nor that of the Oracles. One must wonder how and why you have the power you do.”

“One needn’t wonder such thing if one isn’t a nosy bitch,” Nike snarks, remembering all too clearly the way Ramuh had plucked him out a field of endless flowers and asked him to come back. Asked Nike to serve once more and Nike had agreed not out of selflessness, but because he couldn’t pass up the chance to live again when he had died so early.

If Nike had to break a prophecy in order to live again then whatever may come is worth it.

The man outright laughs at that. “Oh, how you wound me!” he says, “I’ve been called many things, a nosy bitch isn’t one of them.”

“Color me amazed,” Nike says dryly, “If you had been told you were a nosy bitch before now maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Ah, but then we would have lost the opportunity to meet,” the man says, “What do they call you? Surely your name cannot be something as bland as ‘Nick’.”

“And why would I tell you that?” Nike questions, raising an eyebrow at the way the man says the name Nike has given to those he heals. Better a fake name than one that can be traced back to Nyx, “You’ve given me no reason to trust you. Why on Eos would I give you my name?”

“It’s only polite to introduce yourself to strangers,” The man says mildly, “I am Ardyn. And you?”

“Nick.”

Ardyn tsk’s. “Come now, it can’t hurt to tell me your real name.”

“Whether it hurts or not, you’re not getting it.”

* * *

Ardyn follows him for a while after that. He no longer uses shadows to mask his presence and tends to make snide comments on the virtues of cars to which Nike retorts that not everyone can afford a car you jackass.

Of course, the banter doesn’t end there.

“You do realize,” Ardyn says, after the crowd disperses and Nike’s hands are left aching, “That you could ask for anything you wanted from those you’ve healed?”

“If this is another hint asking me to get a car,” Nike says, “I will remind you that you can leave anytime you want.” I didn’t ask for your company, goes unsaid.

Ardyn chuckles, dark and sinister and if Nike hadn’t heard it a dozen times before he would shiver. Nike has no illusions that Ardyn isn’t dangerous. That Ardyn couldn’t kill Nike if he wished to do so. Nike can almost feel the magic around the other man at times. It’s warm, sultry almost, it feels angry and passionate and Nike will reluctantly admit to liking the feeling of Ardyn’s magic.

His magic seems to be at odds with the Scourge that Nike can also sense filling Ardyn. The Scourge is cold, and when Nike says something that hits too close to home for Ardyn the Scourge rises underneath his skin and almost drowns out the warm, passionate feeling of Ardyn’s magic.

Ardyn hums. “No,” he says, “I have long since given up the hopes of you growing some sense and investing in a car. Rather, this is a matter of you not using your status to its full effect. The people you heal love you. You could have them at your feet if you so wished. You could ask for almost anything and they would give it to you. Which of course, begs the question, why don’t you?”

Nike feels his stomach turn at the idea of taking from those he’s healed. Of using his status to ask for things. Accepting gifts from those he heals is different than outright asking them for gil or food.

He would not be able to sleep at night if he charged for his services, would not be able to sleep if he took something that wasn’t offered.

Nike no longer has to fight for food, for water or housing as he had in his past life, he has no reason to take more than what people offer.

He ignores the part of him that recoils in fear at the thought of becoming more known than he is. He knows the rumours, he knows that there are those who are looking for him from both Lucis and Niflheim. Nike knows these things which is partly why he’s taken to covering his face with a cowl whenever he heads out to heal.

When Nike travels, he does so barefaced and free. A marked difference from the cowled man that heals those who need it.

“If you think I would stoop as low to ask for what is not given freely,” Nike says, tone harsh and unyielding as he meets Ardyn’s eyes, “Then perhaps you ought to find someone else to follow.”

“Oh but my dear,” Ardyn says, eyes shining like Nike just walked into a trap, “No one else is nearly as interesting as you.”

* * *

Ardyn wants to hate this healer, this man who is neither Oracle or Lucis Caelum. This man who could put a wrench in all of Ardyn’s carefully laid plans. Ardyn wants to hate this ‘Nick’ with every fiber of his heart.

He doesn’t. He can’t bring himself to hate someone who reminds him of days when Ardyn travelled healing those who needed it. Ardyn can’t bring himself to hate the man that never asks for anything, never takes anything that isn’t freely offered.

The worst part is that Ardyn doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why he can’t hate the man who is compassionate to a fault. Doesn’t understand how Nick can be a healer yet also seem so bitter. Ardyn looks into Nike’s eyes at times and sees a lifetime of guilt there, sees reluctance each time Nick goes to heal.

It’s as though Nick doesn’t want to be a healer, as though he’s doing what he does out of duty, not because he wants to.

And it’s intriguing because Ardyn knows Nick cares, has seen the man’s eyes soften as family members thank him for healing their loved ones. Ardyn knows that Nick cares for children; has seen the man on more than one occasion smile as children crowd him. Ardyn has seen the way Nick’s eyes soften and how gently he speaks to the children he heals, how he offers comfort to them even as they shut their eyes in fear.

Ardyn has seen how Nick cares and he hates how it reminds him of himself. He hates how Nick reminds him of himself, but Ardyn can’t bring himself to hate the man himself.

* * *

They travel together for months. Occasionally Ardyn leaves, off to do whatever it is he does, but he always comes back. Nike doesn’t know why, doesn’t care to delve into the meaning of the man’s presence even though he should. Nyx’s warnings echo in Nike’s head, warnings about how anyone could use him to their advantage if they discovered what Nike could do.

Nike already knew that, but having his brother repeat those words to him only cemented the truth in them. Nike has had people try to use him before, has been killed because he refused to be the tool they wanted him to be.

He won’t make the same mistake twice.

Still, Ardyn comes back, and Nike doesn’t send him away.

* * *

“Your car is ridiculous,” Nike tells Ardyn. The other man had left Nike alone for a few weeks to ‘take care of business’ and while Nike had been glad for the man’s absence at first, he soon found that he missed having company while he travelled.

It’s weird, but Nike feels like he almost missed the other man.

He dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes. It’s not possible he missed the other man, he must have merely missed the company of another person.

Nike wonders if Nyx would mind a visit.

“Why you wound me,” Ardyn says, leaning on the hood. He’s smirking at Nike, and Nike would like very much to punch that smirk off of Ardyn’s face, “Here I thought you would appreciate the trouble I went through to acquire a means of transportation.”

“I was fine walking,” Nike points out, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, yes, but I wasn’t. I’m no longer in the throes of youth.”

Nike rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

* * *

When Ardyn leaves, he has no intention of returning to the healer. He thinks that his curiosity is sated. The healer, Nick (a fake name, but Ardyn doesn’t care to learn the real one.) shows no knowledge of the prophecy, shows no connection to the Astrals beyond his remarkable healing ability.

It’s odd, but Ardyn can wait and watch from a distance. If the healer turns out to have a part to play when the time comes and the pieces are set then Ardyn can deal with him then.

That had been the plan, in the beginning, to leave the healer and not return. But Ardyn-

He finds himself almost missing ‘Nick’. Finds that he almost misses Nick’s snark, the way he told Ardyn off without seeming to care about the Scourge that Ardyn knew Nick knew was under Ardyn’s skin.

So he goes back.

* * *

Ardyn gets a car, partly because he’s tired of travelling on foot and mostly because he knows that he’ll enjoy the way ‘Nick’ will make a face and then refuse to get in until Ardyn annoys him enough that he has no choice.

Ardyn is not disappointed by the face Nick makes. His nose scrunches up and he looks cute.

Ardyn shakes his head. No need to think like that.

* * *

Nike does, to his eternal dismay, get into the car if only to get Ardyn to shut up.

He doesn’t miss how Ardyn smirks at him when Nike finally gets into the car.

* * *

The thing is, healing doesn’t pay well; that is anonymous healing doesn’t pay well. In order to eat Nike takes on hunts. Hunts that Ardyn, for some reasons, insists on accompanying him on.

Today Nike is taking on a Behemoth, and while usually, Nike wouldn’t hesitate to take the job the fact that Ardyn is with him and insists on coming on this hunt while he usually stays behind has Nike pausing as he considers how to ensure that Ardyn gets out of this alive.

Nike could tell Ardyn to stay behind, in fact, he does.

“Hmm,” Ardyn says, a smirk lighting his face, “One would think you don’t want me to watch you fail.”

“If I fail,” Nike says bluntly, “You die. I die. And the Behemoth continues rampaging.”

Ardyn laughs, and it’s darker than Nike has heard in a while.

“I sincerely doubt such a beast could kill me,” Ardyn says.

Nike believes him, but Nike also doesn’t ]want to deal with the fact that he knows that Ardyn will be a distraction.

“You’ll be a distraction,” Nike points out.

Ardyn’s eyes seem to glow. “Do you find me distracting?” He asks, his voice almost a purr.

“I find it distracting that I won’t be able to keep you safe,” Nike shoots back.

“I didn’t know you cared.”

Nike rolls his eyes. “I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ardyn says, leaning forward, “You’ve shown a remarkable ability to care for others. For those you heal, for those you see suffering. I find it hard not to believe that you wouldn’t care if I was injured.”

Nike scowls at him, ignoring the flush of embarrassment that rises to his cheeks. “Fuck you.”

Ardyn grins. “Only if you ask nicely.”

* * *

They find the Behemoth sulking around the Duscae wilds. It’s huge, bigger than normal and Nike suddenly wishes he brought some other hunters along. For all that Ardyn has magic, Nike doubts that the man would use it to help Nike defeat this thing.

Nike takes a breath. Letting his own magic flare and turn his green eyes white as he sends it toward the Behemoth. Nike can feel the pulse of the Behemoth’s heartbeat as his magic dances across it's fur in white sparks, he can feel each breath the Behemoth takes as if he were the beast itself.

Before he can get caught up in the act of being able to feel the beast, Nike sends his magic through the beasts veins and to its heart.

Rot, Nike commands and the heart gives out and does.

The beast makes a wounded sound and falls to the ground.

Nike retracts his magic as the lifeforce of the animal fades completely. It’s only Ardyn’s hand that reaches out to steady Nike that stops Nike from falling to the ground as well.

“Shit,” Nike swears; sweat beading at his temples and exhaustion weighing down his limbs, “That took more out of me than I thought.”

“I imagine that felling such a beast in the manner you had would have a negative effect on you,” Ardyn says dryly and Nike can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah,” Nike says, “You’d be right. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Of course you are,” Ardyn says, “I suppose that means we’re camping? Unless you feel you can make it back to the outpost the way you are now.”

Nike laughs again and stares up at Ardyn through a fall of messy black hair. “Sunset is still a ways away,” Nike admits, turning his gaze from Ardyn and squinting up at the sky, “If I give myself a boost I think I can make it back. Just expect me to fall on the first available bed.”

“What do you mean by ‘giving yourself a boost?’” Ardyn asks as he lets the arm steadying Nike fall away as Nike straightens up on his own and doesn’t fall again.

“It’s a way to temporarily boost my energy,” Nike says, “Think of it as dumping ten energy drinks into a glass of Ebony.”

Ardyn raises a brow. “That sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, it is,” Nike says, “If I heal while in that state it’s highly likely my body will shut down under the strain. If I stay in that state for too long the same thing could happen.”

“The outpost is two hours away on foot.”

Nike grins grimly. “I’ve kept myself going for longer. Just expect me to be useless for twelve hours after.”

“I suppose we should start going then,” Ardyn says, turning and starting down the path.

“We should,” Nike says, and pauses a moment before-

“Ardyn?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Nike.”

Ardyn chuckles. “Good to meet you, Nike.”

* * *

They make it back to the outpost without running into any more fights. They make it back to the outpost just as the sun starts to set and they have to share a room because there is only one room left.

Thankfully, the room has two beds. Nike may have gotten used to Ardyn’s presence, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to share a bed with the man.

Nike is asleep as soon as he hits the pillow.

Nike sleeps.

Nike dreams.

He dreams of his death, of his death at the hands of those in power who wanted the portable water cleansing device Nike had made for themselves. Nike dreams of being strung up and nailed to a cross, of being set aflame with his hands still aching and dying from heat inhalation.

Nike remembers burning and hanging and dying and he-

He hates those responsible for his death, hates them more than anything else. Nike hates them and wishes that Ramuh had brought him back in his old world simply so that Nike could kill those responsible for his death.

But Ramuh hadn’t, Ramuh had plucked Nike from the aether and gave him a choice. To live again and fix a mistake the Astrals had made or to stay dead. And Nike had wanted to live, had wanted another chance at life.

Is it any wonder he chose what he did?

* * *

Nike has nightmares. Ardyn knows this, Ardyn knows that Nike wakes in cold sweat with a scream just barely bitten back because Ardyn himself has been woken by the noise Nike makes as he wakes. At first, he is annoyed by it, while Ardyn does not need to sleep, he finds that it’s one of the few comforts that he has left. To have his sleep disturbed is displeasing, to say the least.

But then Ardyn gets curious, curious enough that he wonders what in Nike’s past could possibly cause such terrors. He thinks of Galahd’s fall, Ardyn knows that Nike had survived it, the fact that he’s here is proof of it, but Ardyn wonders of those that didn’t. Does Nike still have nightmares of that time? Do those he couldn’t save haunt his dreams?

Ardyn knows Nike has nightmares but Nike has never thought to discuss them with him and Ardyn doesn’t ask about them.

He almost asks about this one, about the nightmare that has Nike tossing and turning and writhing on the bed. He almost wakes Nike for some odd reason; before he can, Nike gasps awake and is tearing off his gloves he wears even to bed.

Once the worn leather of the gloves is peeled off is Ardyn privy to the sight of two glowing marks on Nike’s hand. The holes, for they could be nothing else, glow a bright white as do the marks from rope digging too deeply into skin that line Nike’s wrists.

Nike is gasping, is staring at the marks in muted horror and Ardyn doesn’t have to wonder what is going through the other man’s mind. As the glow fades they leave behind scars, scars that are too familiar to Ardyn, scars that Ardyn himself had bore for years after his crucifixion at the hands of his people.

Nike bears the scars of a man who was crucified and Ardyn-

Ardyn feels something in him twist and aches and resettle. Ardyn feels like he wants to shake Nike, to demand answers. To know what happened to the man in front of him.

Ardyn makes his presence known.

* * *

In the back of his mind, Nike is aware of a light flicking on but that’s second to the memory he’s drowning in, second to the feeling of fire licking his skin and the heaviness of smoke in his lungs and-

“Breathe,” a voice, low and familiar commands, “Breathe.”

Nike listens to the voice as it guides him, as it helps steady him, to bring him back to the present and out of the memory he had been stuck in.

When Nike is finally calm again, he blinks at the feeling of cold air on the bare skin of his hands. He must have taken his gloves off sometime during his panic.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Nike jumps.

“Easy,” Ardyn says, a strange undertone to his voice, “I thought you might like some water.”

Nike takes the glass from Ardyn without question. “Thanks.” He says, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth is.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Ardyn advises and Nike feels Ardyn’s gaze travel to his uncovered hands, “You were crucified.”

Nike laughs, short and bitter. “That’s what you notice?”

“It’s hard not to notice,” Ardyn points out, “How did you survive?”

Nike smiles, sharp and full of teeth. “Who says I did?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> and here we are, settling into a new verse because i can't keep my gay paws to myself. anyway, this chapter was mainly bonding and things, next chapter we will get to the actual, falling in love, bit.
> 
> and more plot, and a happy ending.
> 
> yay!
> 
> anyway, nike's backstory is that he was basically in a post-apocalyptic wasteland and made a portable water purifier that he wanted to share with the people for free but those in power didnt like it so they killed him.  
> and then ramuh brought him to Eos.  
> yep thats it.


End file.
